Hudson, who beamed upon us both as we entered;
the other the strange dummy which had played so important a part in
the evening's adventures. It was a wax-coloured model of my friend,
so admirably done that it was a perfect facsimile. It stood on a
small pedestal table with an old dressing-gown of Holmes's so draped
round it that the illusion from the street was absolutely perfect.
"I hope you preserved all precautions, Mrs. Hudson?" said Holmes.
"I went to it on my knees, sir, just as you told me."
"Excellent. You carried the thing out very well. Did you observe
where the bullet went?"
"Yes, sir. I'm afraid it has spoilt your beautiful bust, for it
passed right through the head and flattened itself on the wall.
I picked it up from the carpet. Here it is!"
Holmes held it out to me. "A soft revolver bullet, as you
perceive, Watson. There's genius in that, for who would expect
to find such a thing fired from an air-gun. All right, Mrs.
Hudson, I am much obliged for your assistance. And now, Watson,
let me see you in your old seat once more, for there are
several points which I should like to discuss with you.
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